Summary:

"Maybe I can fly."

The ride is quiet, but to Kory's surprise, not the uncomfortable kind, considering they don't know each other very well. Dawn seems deep in thought which suits her fine because she has questions too. Like, how long had she and Dick boned and if it was before, during or after Hank? Was a triangle happening, or was it an unrequited third wheel type deal?

She doesn't really want to know any of it, in fact, it's the last thing she wants to think about in the scheme of things, but something's changed between she and Dick. Her feelings have and are growing more – complicated. They have a physical line of communication, and they're very good at it. When one of them have something to work through, something too heavy for words, sex works fine. Or it did up until last night. The biting, and scratching, pinning, and thrusting was enough, it hit the spot for a while.

But then Trigon happened and now the look in Dick's eye has changed. And last night, while lying beside him, after they'd had sex, and then made love, she felt an unfamiliar sensation spreading throughout her body. Maybe it was the fear of seeing Dick in danger or being inside his head and witnessing his intimate memories that compounded her feelings for him, she doesn't know. If she looks back further, the concern and worry he shows for Rachel and Gar could've done it, or the way he touched her the night they escaped the Asylum. But last night, there was something soft, and vulnerable about him – out of control, feverish, even desperate. Afterwards, he held her close enough to make them one, his fingers gripping her tight like he never wanted her to slip from them, ever.

The thing, their thing, is changing shape – growing, spreading wide and warm in her chest, and now Dawn is here, and that's a thing, too, maybe. Maybe not the same thing, but a thing, nonetheless. It's fractured, but it's there, and she needs to know what it is because he spoke to her last night with his body, in a way he'd never spoken to her with words. She needs to put it out of her head before the shit storm that is Trigon rains down on them, but to do that, she first needs the mystery in her mind put to bed. Not because she's jealous, she senses a 'lingering something' in Dawn rather than Dick, but because anything not disclosed could be used against them going against Trigon. They'd already learned that lesson the hard way.

Kory pulls up outside the warehouse and climbs out without a word. She unravels the chain and pushes the doors open, greeted with musky air and space. So much space. The warmth of her ship sends a charge along her skin, and she shivers, the sweet, low buzz of its power calling her. She glances confusion on Dawn's face as she follows, walking through the empty warehouse with searching eyes.

"Are we meeting someone here?" Dawn finally speaks, taking in all the rust, and dust and water as Kory stops. She freezes as purple light washes over them both, her eyes growing large and her chin tilting up as the ship reveals itself. "Oh my god," she cries.

"X'hal," And with a loud clank, it opens its mouth and Kory steps on. "Come on," she says, and makes her way through its belly, past the console and into the cockpit. With a heavy sigh, she stares, before slumping into the pilot's seat. Reaching out, she touches the motherboard, barely grazing it and takes in all its symbols, but the translations remain muddied in the endless ocean of her memory.

"I came back here in case I missed something, anything, a clue-,"

"Something to jog your memory," Dawn deduces, with a solemn smile, and Kory sees warmth in her eyes, and nods. "Must be scary," she swallows. "not knowing who you are, or where you're from – family, friends -,"

"Home," Kory clenches her jaw. "It's been coming back in pieces," she touches her forehead, her fingers gentle, almost afraid to command her fragile mind in case it collapses on her. "images, voices – the language," she practices a word, says it aloud and the screens in the cockpit buzz to life, lighting up. She moves towards it and hovers over the motherboard, its symbols now glowing, and taps in a sequence, letting muscle memory take over.

"Kory," Dawn calls.

Kory turns back to the console and sees a video in the projection's place. "Play," she says in her language, and the image starts to move.

The screen rocks as something hits the ship, and she watches herself tap furiously at the motherboard before the ship's hit again. She navigates the control systems expertly and sends a distress call. It patches through and her tongue curls and twists over foreign words as she dispatches the coordinates of her location. She recognizes isolated words, and one word among it is, "attacked". She's hit again, and her screens and the motherboard goes black. Her ship dives through space, rumbling, and hissing. She pulls on the throttle and the ship thrusts forward, then she pulls the steering wheel up, trying to get back on course. It gains speed, and everything trembles, like it could fall apart at any minute.

The video freezes, and everything goes black.

Kory swallows, and slowly backs away from the console. She tries summoning the memory to her, but it remains out of reach. She landed, that much she knew, but Austria. Konstantin. Everything else remains in the fog. Rachel became her only anchor when she woke up in that car with nothing but a warm coat.

"You don't remember any of this, do you?"

Kory shakes her head. "Pieces of it, I knew something went wrong, but I didn't know what-," she sighs, the effort to remember threatens to reward her with a migraine. "I must have been closing in on Rachel – I think that was the last thing, before it all went away."

"Kory, whoever or whatever attacked you," Dawn swallows. "what if they're here, too?"

"It could've been anything," Kory reasons. "Space weather, a malfunction in the core drive, we don't know. I don't know." She shrugs, but she thinks, somewhere, deep down, she does know. "Maybe Adamson and his people knew about me from the beginning, maybe they found me – got to me somehow and wiped me clean." She steps away. "I don't know anything right now, but the longer Trigon is here, the less chance we have of sending him back to hell." Pinning Dawn with a look, she adds, "That's the priority. Getting Rachel back is the mission."

"And if we can't – send him back?"

"You saw it," Kory cries. "He'll destroy everyone and everything." And now she fears, he may not be the only thing to worry about.

"Think small, Gar. Think small." Gar repeats, crouch-walking across the green, and past the porch as the cop's radio buzzes with chatter. He makes his way to the back of the house, staring momentarily at the splinted, rusted cat flap, before wriggling his body through to the other side. Home free without need for a tetanus shot, he stretches himself out, startling when Dick comes ambling down the stairs, patting his pockets down.

"Gar?" Dick raises an eyebrow and shimmies out of his jacket without a beat, flinging it over. "What's wrong?"

"There are cops 50 feet away, barricading our way out of here." He laughs nervously, as he slips into Dick's jacket and pulls it closed. "Also, the Deputy is like thirty seconds from knocking on that door."

Dick turns to the stairs, holding his hands up to Donna as she starts to descend. He points to the door as a shadow fills the window frame and she slowly backs up onto the landing. Then he turns to Gar and jacks his thumb in the direction of the kitchen. "Hide somewhere, anywhere," he whispers, stepping towards the front door.

"What are you going to do?" Gar asks.

"Go," Dick mouths.

It knocks again and Gar leans around the wall for a peek as Dick opens the door, holding his jacket, that smells amazing. And now he wants to know what Dick wears. He jerks back when the cop looks straight through the house, and tiptoes past the pantry, into the bathroom – with the Sheriff. Oh God. No. Gar heaves when he sees him under the sheet in the bathtub. Giving him his back, he slowly pushes the door closed and leans his forehead against it.

"Don't freak out, Gar." He whispers the mantra to himself. "Do not freak," he makes a fist, "out," but the smell, and the pale skin, "you can do this," and all the blood turns his insides cold. Oh yeah, he's freaked out. He is super freaked out right now, and nope, he can't do this.

Swallowing hard, he pulls the door open and listens out for voices. "Deputy actually, name's Brady." Gar glances at the cat flap, contemplating escape. He could run for it, but what if Dick needs him, or Donna, and he's outside, waiting for Hank and Jason when he could be helping them.

Gar cranes his neck to the side and pulls his shoulders back, shrinking with an exhale.

"Detective Grayson," Dick says, eyeing the height and bulk on the Deputy on the doorstep. "C.P.D."

"Detective?" Brady says with enthusiasm.

Dick pulls his badge from his back pocket and holds it up for the man to study, before tucking it back. "I tried to call the station actually, let you guys know I was in town, but there isn't much reception out here," he chuckles.

"Yeah, sorry about that," Brady breezes out a laugh. "So uh, if this isn't your property, what are you doing in it?" he squeezes his big body through, brushing Dick and enters the house, scouring their surroundings; a ravaged sofa, a splintered piano and a broken table with a hole in the wall. Looks great. "What brings you here, Detective?" he offers a smile over his shoulder. "out of your jurisdiction, technically, trespassing,"

Dick glances up the stairs when he hears a creak that draws Deputy Brady's attention. "I'm on a missing person's case," he opens his phone and shows him a poorly lit picture of Rachel. "teenage girl from Detroit." Placing the phone by his thigh, he speed dials Kory. "I tracked her to Dayton station just before that explosion,"

"Crazy, wasn't it?" Brady sighs, moving towards the stairs.

"Uh, yeah," Dick moves towards the kitchen and holds in a sigh when Brady returns his attention to him. "Took me two days, but I tracked her here, to this house – I have no idea who the owner is, or how long it's been since anyone's lived here," he wipes his finger along the piano and blows dust from it. "but I'm guessing it's been a while."

"Angela Azarath – ran away years ago." The Deputy shrugs. "So, did you find her?"

Dick cackles, tilting his head at the man. "I'm still here, Deputy. No." He says. "The trail went cold, but when I saw that truck outside, saw the state of the door, I let myself in," he swallows. "that's when I found the body."

Brady narrows his eyes on Dick. "You buried the lead there, Detective," he closes the distance between them, and Dick closes his phone, making a fist around it. Him being there doesn't look good, no matter how expertly he can weave a tale, and he knows how protective cops are over each other. If Brady even gets a whiff he had anything to do with the Sheriff's untimely death, he'll have a fight on his hands to escape custody.

"Just announcing myself first," Dick says. "So, you know I'm a friendly,"

"'Preciate it," Brady nods. "Male, female, young, old, purple, red?" moving towards the kitchen, he takes a step, before jumping back as a cat pounces him. "Fuckshitwhatthehell?" he screams.

Dick's stomach drops as the green cat stalks past Brady, and he swallows.

"What a funny looking cat," Brady raises his brow, tilting his head to get a closer look.

"that's what I thought when I found him here," Dick says as Gar strides towards him, encircling his leg as he brushes past, mewling, until he's picked up. Dick sighs, holding Gar against him. "Looks like some teenagers got a hold of this poor guy and took a spray can to him."

Brady laughs. "Looks like," he scowls at Gar and then shoots Dick a grin. He definitely isn't giving off cat-person vibes. "I'm glad he seems to have taken a liking to you, but the body, sir?"

"Right," Dick places Gar on the stairs, giving him a last look before glancing up. "Go on, shoo," he says, turning back to Brady. He cups the back of his neck, rubbing a little, as tension builds there, slowly pooling down his spine and walks Brady into the kitchen. "Male, 40s maybe, no I.D." he says as he passes the pantry. "doesn't appear to have any defensive wounds, probably knew the perp."

"And you tried to call this in, sir?" Brady frees his radio and rogers in, but he's met with fuzz on the other line. "Copy?"

"Soon as I found him, yes," Dick opens the bathroom door and lets Brady take the lead. "An hour ago, maybe more."

"That truck outside is our County Sheriff's. Tommy Carson." Brady walks over to the body, his movements slow, and hesitant. He reaches over to steal a peek and sighs, rushing his hands over his head as he leans back. "It's him."

Dick sighs. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry?" Brady growls. "you didn't do this."

Donna waits for Dick's voice to fade. "OK, move," she says to Gar as he stretches his body out. "and put on some clothes," she creeps across the landing and enters Angela's room. "Time to move,"

Gar follows behind moments later, pulling at his clothes like they fit wrong, but she sees nothing wrong with it. "I ran out of clothes," he gripes.

"Now the face makes sense," Donna says, rounding the bed to kneel at Angela's side. She pushes her finger through the handcuff, chaining Angela to the bed. "Damn keys for this thing are downstairs,"

"We have company," Angela sings. "Finally. I was getting bored staring at these walls."

"You decorated." Donna quips.

"What do we do?" Gar asks.

"Leave her sorry, pale ass here," Donna tuts, taking a moment to consider it seriously, before she pulls the puny metal apart, freeing Angela's wrist, to Gar's elation, and maybe fear. She wants to leave Angela to face whatever justice awaits her, if there's such a charge for conspiracy to commit an apocalypse, because in this climate, she muses, there should be. But Dick's right, until this is over, it's prudent to keep her close for now. God, she hates when he's right. "Grab her," she says. "We're going to slip out of this window,"

"I can't fly," Gar declares. "So, don't ask."

"I'm not going to ask," Donna reassures him as he helps Angela scoot off the bed, while she slides the window up and climbs out onto the roof. Holding her arms out as Gar ushers Angela closer, she hauls her out without much care and waits for Gar. "OK," she wraps her arm around Angela's waist, steadying her, and glances at the teen. "Wait here,"

"Huh?" Gar asks.

Donna leaps off the roof with Angela in her arms and lands firmly on her feet, then she drops Angela to the floor and looks up at Gar. "Come on. I'll catch you."

Gar gulps. "Are you sure?" he asks. "Maybe I can fly."

"Get your ass down here," Donna glances over her shoulder, following his line of sight. "What is it? What do you see?" she sighs and walks back a couple of paces to run and launch herself into the air. She lands on the roof with a thud. "Let's go," she grabs him, and he points, and she looks. Up ahead, a fifty or so feet from them is a herd of uniforms making their way over with fire power.

Looking closer, and squinting, her heart sinks low in her chest when she sees. "Wait – that's not," her eyes widen. "that guy's from two nights ago," she points to the man heading the herd. "Me and Kory fought him," she takes a breath as she realizes what's happening, because, oh boy. "We fought all of them."

The cloak falls over the ship and Dawn finds herself hesitant to move, still speechless by its form, and shape, and energy, it's existence. She picks up her pace when she turns, finding Kory nearing the warehouse doors, in a rush to leave.

Considering what she saw, she's feeling more settled with Kory, knowing now, the reason she couldn't make heads or tails of her was because she can't make heads or tails of anything, especially herself. Kory's ache settles in her own chest as she considers what it must feel like to have no identity, no sense of belonging, nothing solid to stand on. It makes sense now, the thing, the magnetism between she and Dick, or at least the foundation of it. Identity. They fit into the same puzzle, both are searching for a place to fit, looking for familiarity, home.

Throw in their recent trauma at the hands of Trigon and the heavy silences, whispers at night and longing stares make sense. There's so much to be said, if Dick wasn't so tongue tied, like he was back at the house before they left.

Dawn doesn't know if she can fully trust Kory yet though, because a woman who doesn't know herself can't possibly know what she's capable of, and she did nearly succeed in making Rachel non-existent. But if she's to go on energy and her gut, all she's feels and has felt from Kory since she met her is frantic (now alien) mama bear.

Kory stops a few inches from the truck and turns to Dawn. She opens her mouth, and swallows. "You and Dick,"

"It's been done a long time," Dawn offers, sensing her restlessness. "We have history, yes, but that's all it is, and it's all under the bridge," she shrugs. "I'm his past." She notes how Kory's shoulders drop as she visibly sighs. "No drama," she laughs.

Kory smiles. "Plenty drama to be had with this fucking demon,"

Dawn nods. "Kory," she calls as she turns away. "Thank you," she says. "for showing me this, for trusting me."

Kory smiles. "I did it because I like your hair."

"Oh," Dawn breaks out laughing, and rolls her eyes. "You can stop lying now, yours is better," she teases. "It pops," she adds with a little shoulder hitch.

"Sings too," Kory shrugs.

Dawn shakes her head, tickled at the thought. "I believe you."

Kory flicks the keys into the air and Dawn catches them. "I got my ass kicked by a demon."

"Well then," Dawn says, walking around to the driver's side. "I guess I better drive."

As they climb into the truck, and Dawn turns the engine over, Kory drags her phone off the dash as it flashes and brings it to her ear. "voicemail," she mutters. After a moment, her face contorts, and Dawn's chest caves.

"What?"

"Our luck just ran out is what," Kory says. "I need you to drive like you're never going to see your action figure boyfriend again."

Dawn shifts the gear all the way up and slams her boot down on the gas.

Dick's watching Brady's every move; the way he rushes his dark hair back, presses down into his shoulders and plants his feet, breathing unevenly. "Brady are you okay?" he says to the man's back. He felt something off from the moment he opened to the door, a restless energy beneath calm skin and cold smiles. His lack of interest in the damage to the house, the way he studied Dick's gait and scoured the kitchen before entering the bathroom.

"It's such a shame," Brady says. "and a terrible waste,"

And the language.

Dick clenches his fists and shuffles back, dodging Brady's fist as he throws it back in a sudden attack. He slams his arm into the wall and knees him in the stomach and then punches him in the face, blocking a hit with both arms up as Brady's free arm flies towards him. Brady rushes forward with a kick and Dick lifts his knee to block, then kicks him in on the inside of his thigh and punches him again.

But Brady recovers in record time, running forward and attacks with a barrage of punches, pushing him into the kitchen. Dick blocks, blocks, blocks, and one slips through, the knuckles grazing his ribs. He stumbles back with a hiss, clutching them and takes a painful deep breath. Brady advances, and Dick skips back into the kitchen, quickly scouring the room for something heavy enough to knock the Deputy out with it before he tires. His chest burns with effort but Brady gives him no time.

His vision blots with colorful spots and Brady's fist connects with his ribs again. He doubles over, his breath growing shaky, and Brady grabs his hair. Slipping his jacket from the floor, Dick grabs the arm, wrapping it, and spins under it, throwing his elbow into Brady's head, before hurtling him across the room. He races behind him, kicking him at the back of the knee, and then ties his hands around the man's neck and drives his knee into his belly, once, twice, and again. Swinging him into the living room, he knees him again. Brady catches his next attempt, but Dick moves quick, stepping on his thigh and launching his body up and around his neck, dragging him to the floor.

Brady rolls out of the clinch and throws a kick back into Dick's stomach as he stands, throwing him over the sofa.

Dick's panting now, struggling to take a full breath, feeling heavier in his skin than he's used to. Brady comes around with a smile on his face and reaches down to grab. Dick pulls his arm towards him, lifting his legs up and around Brady's neck and ties them together. Brady struggles, trying to pull free, and Dick thrusts his hips up, breaking the arm. He clenches his thighs, strangling Brady's scream.

Dick waits until Brady slumps and pushes him onto the floor before rolling away. He coughs. His body tired and throbbing, and with effort, climbs to his feet, bracketing his ribs. As he moves towards the front door, he hears Brady groaning and turns back, barely able to keep his fists up. Just then, light from Donna's lasso lashes past him as Brady stands, wrapping itself around his neck and jerks him forward into the wall beside her.

"You okay?" Donna asks.

He nods. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me yet," Donna yanks her lasso free. "Uniform here brought a party," she crosses the room and dips under his arm, helping him out onto the porch as the herd inches closer.

A broken sigh escapes Dick's lips, and he drops his shoulders. He doesn't know if he can go anymore. Throw one more punch. Brady almost flattened him because, injured, he's fighting sixty percent below his skill level.

"Now thank me," Donna says as Jason and Hank come running, bowling into them. The tiger appears from the corner of the house, growling, and snapping his jaw as he leaps in too.

Kory's heart shrivels up in her red-hot chest at the thought of something bad happening to either Gar or Dick again, while she's not there. She's already sick of this shit. She is well and truly done. Everyone, and anyone on Trigon's side can die, screw what Dick said, because if any of them are hurt, if there is even a scratch, she takes no responsibility for what comes next.

They haven't even got Rachel back and trouble is knocking their door for the second time.

Dawn slows down and Kory peeps the barricade of cruisers and spike strip laid across the street. "Go around, and step on it," she growls.

Dawn slams her foot down, swerving into the lumpy dirt. She clips the end of the parked car, and the truck rocks, then she punches the gas, skidding back onto the road.

Kory can feel the heat bubbling up under her skin, the pulse in her hands, in her chest, and she doesn't wait for Dawn to pull up before she hauls herself out of the car.

"Kory, wait," Dawn calls, climbing out behind her. All she sees is a sea of black tactical suits and her friends among them. Jason tumbles down the porch steps as he's kicked, and rolls to a stop, jumping back onto his feet. He shakes his head before darting right back up them with his fists in the air.

Hank catches bodies Donna sends like a football, flinging them over his shoulder. He runs at two at a time, slamming his forearms into their chests, and Donna whips the lasso at necks, ankles and torsos, throwing them like rag dolls.

She catches a glimpse of green and searches out the tiger among the black clearing a path for Dick, and she starts towards them, deciding to help him first.

"Dawn," Hank shouts, and she turns, finding a gun pointed at her from a few feet away. Every moment seems to stretch out in front of her. Her heart drops into her stomach as he cocks it back and pulls the trigger.

Donna sends the lasso hurtling through the air, snatching the gun from his grip, but the bullet releases, firing at her, and she can't move, or breathe, or watch.

Dawn stumbles back when she hears the impact, feeling herself when she doesn't feel any pain. Maybe this new body of hers can withstand a bullet. She opens her eyes and finds Kory standing in front of her on fire. She swallows as the moisture dries from her mouth and watches as she disappears among the flames.

And explodes.